


Velvet Noose

by attackstance



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Body Worship, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Smut, Sugar Daddy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-30
Updated: 2017-04-30
Packaged: 2018-10-25 23:53:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10775100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/attackstance/pseuds/attackstance
Summary: When Taeyong takes, it's because Sicheng wants him to take.





	Velvet Noose

**Author's Note:**

> Wow porn again.

“C’mere.”

It’s a rarity, a command from Taeyong. Sicheng shuffles closer on the couch and Taeyong grabs his thigh, drags him over until he’s hovering over Taeyong’s lap. His knees clench Taeyong’s hips. His hands, anxious, hang loosely over Taeyong’s shoulders, while Taeyong’s are latched onto his waist, thumbs just peeking under the hem of his shirt.

Taeyong’s eyes are looking up at him with startling focus. His calloused thumbpads draw soft circles into Sicheng’s hip bones, warmth radiating from his touch. Sicheng chews his bottom lip, forcing himself not to turn away from the intensity in Taeyong’s gaze. He should be long used to it by now.

They found each other a while ago; Sicheng, a young man in the middle of the department store on a mission to replace his worn winter jacket, and Taeyong, the shy benefactor who’d gifted Sicheng a luxurious pea coat with no more explanation than pinkened cheeks and grumbled words.

Sicheng wasn’t given any other option than to accept. Taeyong vanished moments after pushing the tote into his chest, hiding somewhere in the maze of the men’s section. The pea coat inside was one Sicheng had eyed longingly – even after balking at the absurd number of zeros on the price tag. It was a rich coffee brown and soft to the touch, long enough to reach his thighs and made him look dignified, as if he wasn’t the type to make ends meet in a twenty-four-hour convenience store.

He hesitated, of course, but the receipt in the bag was legitimate and even had his benefactor’s name signed on it. _Lee Taeyong_. He carried it home, tried it on in front of the mirror and decided to keep it. There was nothing he could do about being the target of a charitable rich stranger, so why bother fighting it?

Weeks later, Sicheng didn’t forget Taeyong’s face. He was in the department store again, this time for the pack of socks he’d been pretending he didn’t need, and Taeyong was shopping just two racks down from where Sicheng stood. Taeyong had button-up shirts and pairs of jeans slung over his arm, which shouldn’t have been odd, except they were all _bargain bin_ brands. Sicheng knew that rack well and knew there were no luxury brands to be found, no place for someone with the money to drop on expensive coats.

He stared at Taeyong and stared _hard_ , glaring suspiciously as Taeyong shuffled down the aisle. He wasn’t trying to hide so it wasn’t long before Taeyong saw him, blinking his large doe eyes and staring right back.

“What? What is it? Did you want something?” Taeyong had asked, unperturbed by the ferocity of Sicheng’s staring. Sicheng hadn’t planned on answering and Taeyong realized this after a silent few minutes. He grinned, full of humor, showing off his white teeth, and went back to sifting through clothes. “All righty.”

Sicheng wasted maybe ten more minutes watching Taeyong shop, trying to find the trap in his seemingly unflappable kindness. He was still watching when Taeyong made it to the adjacent aisle, picking through the rack as if Sicheng wasn’t in front of him burning a hole through his face with his eyes.

“You bought me a coat.” Sicheng finally asked, startling Taeyong into looking up at him. “Why did you buy me a coat?”

Taeyong smiled and answered, “So you’ll stay warm.”

It was as stunningly meaningful as it was painfully confusing to Sicheng, simple and honest. Outside of friends and family, there had never been someone to just _care_ for him without a responsibility or an ulterior motive. Taeyong was already checking further down the rack as if he hadn’t imploded Sicheng’s deduction skills.

Sicheng was curious, and they kept in contact.

He didn’t mind that Taeyong was eleven years his elder. He would barely notice if not for the crinkles at the corner of Taeyong’s eyes when he laughed, the way he held himself with maturity that made Sicheng feel like a teenager in comparison. They went out often, dinners and shopping and clubs and carnivals and a paddleboat ride when Sicheng pouted hard enough.

Taeyong paid for absolutely _everything_ and left no room for discussion. He was easy otherwise – Sicheng dragged him around everywhere when the whim hit and could beg him into trying different ice cream flavors _besides_ choco-nut explosion, but Taeyong would grow suddenly stern if Sicheng tried to pay for even the smallest trinket. Sicheng’s meager paychecks didn’t give him much room to argue, and soon he stopped arguing altogether.

Sicheng addressed it, one evening as they walked to Sicheng’s place after a movie. Taeyong wasn’t usually talkative, preferring to listen as Sicheng gabbed on and on, but he told Sicheng lots of things that night, about how he’d grown up with only his elder sister to depend on and had started his own business, a local air duct and ventilation cleaning business, when he’d been less than Sicheng’s age. He wasn’t rich, as Sicheng wrongly blurted out to Taeyong’s amusement, he was just smart with his money and didn’t like to spend it on anything, himself included.

“Then…why did that change? I mean, with me?” Sicheng questioned and scratched his head. He realized long ago that Taeyong would buy anything, _anything_ he asked for. He remembered watching an anime in Taeyong’s apartment once and joking about wanting a body pillow of the main heroine. A few days later, a package from Japan arrived on his doorstep.

He nearly tried the same with a chimpanzee at the zoo, but thought better of testing Taeyong’s determination.

“You?” Taeyong paused in the middle of the sidewalk. His lips were pursed in thought. “You’re…a special case.” He said and laughed when Sicheng hit his shoulder, demanding a better answer.

That should have meant they were closer, the _dating_ kind of closer, but it didn’t yet. More than three months since they’d start hanging out and Taeyong hadn’t kissed him, hadn’t hugged him, hadn’t even held his pinky finger. His hand would find Sicheng’s lower back when they walked through a crowd, but it was always gone before Sicheng could think of it as more. He would flirt over texts if Sicheng was feeling playful, but he’d sober up again before Sicheng could take it one wink emoji further.

It wasn’t long before Sicheng grew frustrated, confused. He hadn’t started his ambiguous relationship with Taeyong in hopes of leading to romance, but his heart wasn’t made of iron. Taeyong was sweet and caring, he was handsome _God_ was he handsome, the most beautiful person Sicheng’s ever saw, and he showered Sicheng with the sincerest devotion he’d ever felt from another man.

The impatience mounted one day as Sicheng was leaving Taeyong’s apartment. He loitered in the doorway and waited for Taeyong to turn him around and kiss the senses out of him as a goodbye. Taeyong cooked dinner that evening and they watched TV together with Taeyong’s head snuggled on Sicheng’s shoulder. They’d knocked their socked feet against each other’s playfully and Taeyong had fed Sicheng popcorn when Sicheng opened his mouth. It was the most _date-iest_ of dates if Sicheng had ever been on one – but no, Taeyong held the door open for Sicheng and smiled like the aggravating gentleman he was.

So Sicheng stepped into Taeyong’s space, both hands on Taeyong’s bony hips to draw him close, and kissed him. Kissed him until he could taste the remnants of buttery popcorn in his mouth, kissed him until his lungs hurt and his fingers left bruises in Taeyong flesh. Taeyong kissed him back with matching fervor, calloused hands framing Sicheng’s face and an agile tongue making Sicheng’s knees quake. The lack of hesitation, the way he panted with Sicheng when they finally parted, Sicheng could tell Taeyong had longed for it as well.

Sicheng should’ve noticed it earlier, how Taeyong would bend over backwards to please him. He should have noticed the ball was _always_ in his court from the very beginning, that it was always his choice when and where to take, whatever he wanted. Hadn’t Taeyong proven that again and again?

He noticed it eventually and got a little drunk from it. He could kiss Taeyong and Taeyong was there, responding, feeling, touching him like a man starved. His hand would dip between Taeyong’s thighs and Taeyong was boned up in a flash, grunting and mewling with a flushed face as Sicheng watched and stroked him off in minutes.

In private, Sicheng could play as he wanted. He stood behind Taeyong as he cooked and suckled a red patch onto Taeyong’s neck, fingers toying with Taeyong’s nipples underneath his shirt. He joined Taeyong in the shower and sunk to his knees, licked the droplets of water from Taeyong’s cock with Taeyong’s groans a symphony above him. He tackled Taeyong while they were on the couch and lined their hips up, grinding their cocks together for sinful friction.

It’s a power Sicheng had never known, but it wasn’t _all_ he wanted. Taeyong was visibly more comfortable with him, the barrier between them had shattered at Sicheng’s hand, but Taeyong still wouldn’t initiate. He waited and responded, receptive of Sicheng’s teasing but never the one to tease. It was fun to surprise him at first, but Sicheng wanted more than that. He wanted to be at the mercy of Taeyong’s desires and bend as Taeyong willed. He wanted to know that Taeyong desired him just the same as he desired Taeyong.

But Taeyong isn’t the type to take if he has the choice.

So Sicheng makes the choice for him.

“Can I take this off?” Taeyong asks and tugs feebly at Sicheng’s shirt. Sicheng doesn’t remind him that he’s not supposed to be asking, he lets it slide this time. He nods and obliges, rolling his shirt up and tossing it to the floor.

For a while, Taeyong only stares. Sicheng follows the motion of his eyes, the way they meticulously scan over his shoulders, his arms, his chest and his stomach with unguarded appreciation. Sicheng isn’t bashful about his body, he quite likes his lean figure, but he fidgets restlessly the longer Taeyong absentmindedly massages his hips. The air in Taeyong’s home is cool, but Sicheng’s skin is heating despite.

Taeyong glances up, realizing he distracted himself. “Can I –?”

 “Taeyong.” Sicheng is frowning at Taeyong, dissatisfied with the way Taeyong tiptoes to make every move. “You can.” He’s warning Taeyong now – even though this is meant to be Taeyong’s opportunity to take control, do as he pleases, they both know it’s because _Sicheng_ wants him to. If there’s anything in the world Sicheng has learned the past few months, he knows certain Taeyong can’t bear seeing him disappointed.

A sheepish smile runs over Taeyong’s face. “Right. Sorry.”

Stationary hands become mobile, roving over Sicheng’s muscled stomach and sides, snaking around his back and up his shoulder blades. Taeyong pressures there, leaning Sicheng forward so he can press a soft kiss to the center of Sicheng’s chest. Sicheng’s breath hitches as he watches Taeyong trail fickle kisses up to his sternum, over his collarbone and into his inner shoulder. There’s sentiment in each careful caress, Sicheng almost feels guilty for taking pleasure in them.

The path diverts and Taeyong’s mouth is at Sicheng’s nipple now, teasing the bronze peak with the very tip of his tongue. He laps over it, swirls around the areola, flicks it playfully until Sicheng can’t restrain his voice. He shudders a faint moan, not more than a breath, but Taeyong catches it. He meets Sicheng’s gaze, wide eyes deeper than they usually are, and the corner of his mouth curls up. The noises come louder when Taeyong takes the peak into his mouth, plush pink lips over tan skin, suckling and nibbling delicately.

When he’s done playing with one bud, he moves onto the other with the same careful affection, rolling his tongue over it and scraping with his teeth. Sicheng’s fingers twist in Taeyong’s collar, unmistakable hardness welling up in his jeans. He didn’t realize how much he’d be teased when he started this, impatience starts to surface and peck at his stability.

Sicheng’s chest feels raw by the time Taeyong pulls back, a thin string of spit stretched from his tongue to Sicheng’s bud. He stands abruptly, lifting Sicheng with him and smoothly lies Sicheng down on the couch, kneeling between Sicheng’s bent legs. It’s daunting how Taeyong looms over him with finely restrained passion, yet Sicheng basks in the anticipatory shivers.

“I’m getting rid of these,” Taeyong announces rather than asks and he unzips Sicheng’s fly, giving Sicheng a chance to retreat – Sicheng _never_ would. The jeans and underwear come off quickly and Sicheng is nude, black hair splayed over a pristine white couch cushion, one too-long leg wedged between Taeyong’s waist and the back of the couch, the other foot planted flat in the plush carpeting. His dick is stiff and needy, bobbing over the muscled plane of his stomach and drizzling sticky precum over his skin.

Taeyong makes no move to undress, Sicheng notices. He traps his bottom lip between his teeth before he can speak on it, refraining from whining to get his way like he’s so accustomed to. It’s not _fair_ that Taeyong gets to see all of him, drink him in with depthless eyes and rough hands skating up his thighs and over his thin hips, yet all Sicheng has to admire are the shiny buttons on Taeyong’s powder blue shirt. He’s never seen more than Taeyong’s elbows and scant glimpses of his bony ankles outside the shower and he wants _more,_ damn it.

But he doesn’t say anything, a difficult task the more enthralled Taeyong becomes with his body. The kisses left at Sicheng’s chest resume and trail lower, along the hard lines of Sicheng’s stomach and a teasing lick into his navel. He doesn’t touch Sicheng’s cock yet, hands occupied kneading into Sicheng’s thighs, but he cleans away the stain of precum on Sicheng’s skin with wide laps of his tongue, eyes closed and expression reverent. Sicheng throbs watching him, more clear fluid leaking from his cockslit, and Taeyong licks it up with even more enthusiasm.

The kisses become less delicate and more fervent as they trace around Sicheng’s patch of short hair, wet sounds traveling into the junction of Sicheng’s hip and thigh and a slick tongue sliding up the tender flesh of his thigh. Sicheng’s breath hitches at every shallow scrape of Taeyong’s teeth into the sensitive skin of his inner thigh, but they never sink in or leave marks, not how Sicheng has always fantasized Taeyong would. There isn’t a single telling mark on Sicheng’s body. Taeyong is purposely preserving him and keeping him untainted while all Sicheng wants is bite marks on his neck and thighs, finger-shaped bruises on his hips and ass. He wants a physical sign that he is Taeyong’s and, more importantly, _Taeyong is his_.

Again, he keeps it hidden under shallow breaths, each measured by the press of Taeyong’s lips over his knees and down to his ankles. Taeyong cradles the heel of Sicheng’s foot and presses a meaningfully long kiss to the top of his foot, something Sicheng’s to overwhelmed to interpret with liquid electricity frying his senses at every touch. It drifts down to the pads of his toes, a kiss placed affectionately to each one, causing the heat in Sicheng’s cheeks to glow from unexpected shyness.

Sicheng worries Taeyong’s mission is to leave no inch of his skin untouched with a kiss despite Sicheng already near the point of whimpering and gyrating his hips into the frictionless air, but there’s mercy. Taeyong lets Sicheng’s leg fall to the side and perches on his knees and elbows, his warm exhales ghosting the velvety flesh of Sicheng’s cock when his mouth is close. He’s waiting, piercing eyes following every decadent symptom of pleasure Sicheng bares to him – the pleading whines from teeth-bruised lips, the sharp rise and fall of his chest, the hands clutching the arm of the sofa under Sicheng’s head.

Taeyong sighs so serenely, fingers massaging the base of Sicheng’s cock absentmindedly. “Heaven,” he smiles as if Sicheng isn’t a thread’s width away from snapping. Instead of giving attention to Sicheng’s boner, Taeyong takes his own middle finger inside his mouth to coat it with saliva methodically.

The groan from Sicheng’s mouth is laden with exasperation. He’s desperate to kiss those pink lips or sink his dick between them until they’re cherry red and cum-slick, but he’s not allowed to do anything still. His body is thrumming with untapped energy and it’s becoming too much to handle alone. “You can do more – if you want,” he blurts out, doing well not phrasing it as a demand.

Taeyong pulls his finger from his mouth leisurely, Sicheng’s words not hurrying him along at all. It glistens with spit and Sicheng aches to have it other places. “I’m doing what I want already, aren’t I?”

“I mean, you don’t have to hold back. I…I like you,” Sicheng admits, figuring it better to confess his feelings while he’s more sure than ever – especially if it means Taeyong pushing further. Taeyong’s wide smile encourages him. “I like you, and I think you like me too.”

“You think…I like you?” Taeyong chuckles and lowers his finger between Sicheng’s thighs. Sicheng doesn’t think there’s anything to laugh about, but his frown breaks when Taeyong’s slick finger circles lazily over around his pucker. “Baby, baby, baby. I’ve been in love with you from the moment I saw you.”

That finger sinks knuckle-deep inside Sicheng in one smooth thrust and his gasp covers his shock at Taeyong’s confession. Taeyong talks still, dragging his finger in and out of Sicheng’s delicate hole. “You have any idea how hard it is for me not to think about you every second? How to make you smile, how to make all your troubles go away, how to be a better person for you?”

The way Taeyong can share his feelings so easily staggers Sicheng, who stuttered over his own heartfelt words. “You’re absolutely beautiful and so fucking cute it kills me, but you’re handsome and charming as well, you can knock anyone off their feet.” He presses his lips all over Sicheng’s cock, lingering and wet from his balls up to the precum-slick tip, and speaks in between. “I mistook you as delicate at first, but you’re strong…even more than me sometimes, y’know. And I’ve seen how sweet you can be to others, to me, but you know when not to give, you know when to fight back.”

Taeyong nuzzles his cheek against Sicheng’s dick like it means the world to him, and not for the first time Sicheng blushing from Taeyong’s sentiment. It helps when Taeyong fits another finger inside him, stroking his inner walls with roughened skin to distract him. “I don’t think I’m worthy of you, but I thank whatever made someone as perfect as you give me a second look.

“You have no idea, Dong Sicheng. That very first day in the store, I would’ve gotten down on my hands and knees if you’d asked me to. Anything, anything for you.”

“Stop – stop talking,” Sicheng orders, slapping his hands over his reddened face. He hears Taeyong’s laughter and the shiver-inducing puffs of warm breath over his sensitive cock. It means something that Taeyong still makes his heart flutter after so long, but he won’t realize those feelings just yet.

“Sure thing, handsome,” is all Sicheng hears before a hot mouth engulfs his stiff cock, soft lips taking him in more than halfway. Sicheng chokes on a gasp, a hand flying to find purchase in Taeyong’s dark locks. Taeyong sucks thoroughly, rolls his tongue against the belly of Sicheng’s cock, and pulls up until his lips wrap tight under the helmet. The tip of his tongue teases inside the leaking slit and his hand grips the length, squeezing and pumping into his mouth.

If the voltage crawling through his muscles isn’t enough to addle Sicheng’s mind, the sight of Taeyong, dedicatedly pleasing him, does the job efficiently. Taeyong’s head bobs in rhythm with the fingers exploring Sicheng’s hole, thrusting them in deep when Sicheng hits the back of his throat and curling them against a sweet spot while his tongue strokes over the head.

He’s not supposed to – this is Taeyong’s time to be in control – but Sicheng is lost to pleasure. His hand fists in Taeyong’s hair and his hips stutter upwards, shoving his cock far into Taeyong’s throat. It’s heaven, a slick passage tightening around his aching length, and he exhales a shuddering breath as he sets a broken pace. Taeyong swallows him to the base with no trouble, large eyes locked with Sicheng’s while his mouth is thoroughly fucked.

Taeyong’s fingers pressure that sweet spot once more and Sicheng loses it. “T-Taeyong,” he stammers under a groan and Taeyong pulls back against Sicheng’s hand, using his fist to finish Sicheng off instead. When Sicheng erupts, he sprays Taeyong’s face with warm globs of cum and Taeyong’s fingers pump inside him relentlessly, drawing out every spurt until his face is coated.

When Sicheng can unclench his eyes and wind down from relieved tension in his groin, Taeyong is sitting back on the couch leisurely dragging his fingers over his face, feeding his cum-stained fingers into his mouth and licking them clean. A mix of disgust and desire surge in Sicheng’s chest, but his tired face shows neither.

His gaze catches Taeyong’s attention and Taeyong grins, unabashed. Taeyong hadn’t touched himself the whole time and the bulge in pants looks painful. He surely doesn’t have anything to grin about. “Thanks for that,” Taeyong says with hoarse words. Sicheng isn’t sure whether he means the jizz or the whole evening. Either way, Sicheng weakened dick is throbbing with renewed vigor.

He gathers the strength and maneuvers so he hovering over Taeyong’s lap, the same position they started in. Only now, things will go differently.

“M’kay. That was fun,” Sicheng hums and lowers his hips. The swell of his ass is firm against Taeyong’s clothed erection, grinding down without mercy. Taeyong’s face changes from surprised to desperate in an instant and his hands find Sicheng’s waist, gripping hard like Sicheng likes. He doesn’t take anymore than that – his time is up.

“Now, my turn.”


End file.
